


Yonyo

by an_evasive_author



Series: House of Ñolofinwë [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Domestic Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_evasive_author/pseuds/an_evasive_author
Summary: With their newest sibling kicking up a terrible fuss (Quite literally in some cases) before he is even born, all three children of Nolofinwe are carted off to their cousins to find distraction and fun. Because clearly, the company of five Fëanorians is something high strung Nolofinwions dearly need.
Relationships: Aredhel & Celegorm | Turcafinwë, Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Maglor | Makalaurë & Turgon of Gondolin
Series: House of Ñolofinwë [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633537
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	1. Polda

Under Finwë's favoured pavilion, the one that overlooked the little koi pond, a group of elves had gathered, as elves were wont to do. Six in number, if one counted the infant who alternated between feckless snoring and wiggly ardour.

In the distance, beyond the pond and never in it --there were rules for elves in the koi pond-- elflings, small and not so much, played, as elflings were wont to do. A golden one and a very ladylike one played leapfrog on the lawn.

Seven, if one inclined counted them so, had gathered at the table, but one participant had not yet made it to freedom and in turn, could not play upon the green. Perhaps fully aware of that and not shy about proclaiming the fact, there was a fuss to be kicked up. Quite literally and liberally so.

“Ai! Right in the liver!” Anairë yelped and dropped her crumpet back onto her saucer.

“It is all that repressed temper, I am sure of it,” Eärwen said and nodded sagely to herself. Arafinwe hummed thoughtfully and handed a newly tired Aikanáro back to her.

Anairë grunted as she righted herself. A bit of tea had splashed onto the saucer and was wiped away. “I will give you temper, Eärwen, for that smart mouth of yours, just you wait until I am not hauling ballast with me.”

Unperturbed, for she was a sailor who frequently challenged Ossë for races over white-washed waves, Eärwen laughed, “See? Just like I said. Nerdanel, support my conjecture.”

Nerdanel was not a sailor. She was a sculptor and thus not inclined to such self-destructive behaviour. “I will not; I have no plans on visiting Mandos, I have things to do.”

Eärwen rolled her eyes, “Fine fine, bunch of wet blankets, the lot of you." She sniffed disdainfully, "Closet full of them.”

“Who puts wet blankets in the closet?” Arafinwe asked, mystified. In his grasp, his son shuffled, kicked about and yawned.

“The same people who eat cornichons with mustard,” Anairë replied without hesitation.

This had gone on for a while now, with Aikanáro being passed freely around the table. Aikanáro, much like his older brothers, was already busy gathering elves that adored him. Being beatific and quiet, easy to handle and very, very cute made this rather easy.

With his hands free, the tiered sandwich stand could be raided freely and no such opportunity would ever go amiss. Arafinwe stole away those he liked and spurned those he did not with uncaring ignoring. “I am glad, the poor boy looked stricken; What did you do with him?”

“Planning for a sibling, mostly” Nolofinwe said. “He was not like this with the others...”

Anairë groused even as she carefully stroked hair back into place and relaxed her tense, rigid ears. “He is sensitive to these things and I have been beastly this entire pregnancy,” she said.

Nolofinwe, sitting favourably close to lean in and offer comfort, did just that. “Not for most of it,” he spoke into her hair. “I cannot blame you for losing patience now.”

Eärwen, as she was so inclined, nodded once, “You were when you came in, let me tell you. I was worried you were going to flip over the table when you arrived.”

“Dear,” Arafinwe tried, for there was such a thing as stoking the flames to an unnecessary degree, but was ignored.

Nolofinwe offered a bland shrug but remained silent when his brother's gaze searched for help.

Anairë scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Because this one kicked me in the pelvis. I'd like to see you being cheerful and blasé.”

“He's going to be a runner,” Eärwen replied. She shifted Aikanáro's tiny form in her lap. A little grousing, a short, snuffling snort and all was well again. “I make sailors. They get excited near water.”

“Or you may have made a giant,” Nerdanel said, “Happens. I should know, more than anyone. When I carried Nelyafinwe, he tried his very hardest to trample my liver into fine pâté on the regular. Too little room to stretch, perhaps. He was not happy and even less shy of letting me know.” She received Aikanaro when he was offered and petted her peeping nephew's golden, fleecy head.

“My condolences for that,” Nolofinwe said and counted himself lucky once more that this particular duty had not fallen on himself. It was easier to liken childbirth and all that came before it as miracle when one was not too involved with the heavy lifting. That did not mean that he could not deeply sympathise.

“That's quite alright, he grew out of it. After he was done with me, naturally.”

“And are we not all so very grateful for that?” Arafinwe laughed. 

At the prospect of that, the thought alone, Anairë said. “My back is already going to be the end of me, and this is only just over half the gestation period. What am I to do in a year?”

Her dear friend came to her aid. Unfortunately, the nature of her comfort was not the manner Anairë might have appreciated otherwise. “Suffer, mostly.” Such refreshing bluntness, truly...

Anairë grunted sharply, either displeased or simply having been kicked again, “Thank you for that, Eärwen.”

Eärwen tittered, unconcerned with Anairë's glaring. “Someone needs to say it. I don't look forward to your discomfort--”

“Oh, don't you?”

“--Keep that up for later, you'll need all the panache you can get.” She ate one of her dreaded, briny conichons and sipped tea. “One needs to be realistic,” she said after her cup clicked quietly on its saucer.

Warbling complaints rose forth from where Aikanáro found himself woefully underappreciated and unamused. No praise nor cuddling had been offered for far too long and now his patience had run out. There would be terrible retribution and loud screaming. All without warning because that would show them!

Puffing up, gathering steam like a little thunderhead, Aikanáro prepared for his tantrum to end all tantrums.

Casually, Arafinwe tickled one of Aikanáro's feet and was rewarded with reproachful glaring the likes of which could burn holes into walls. How was anyone supposed to fume, stew properly in their anger if one was distracted like this?

No one could hope to resist and, begrudgingly, unhappy wiggling turned to zealous flapping, shrieky squeaks followed soon, after and all choler was forgotten in moments. How devious!

“If there is need for it, doctors can be brought in. You need not feel left to your own devices. Whatever resources there are will be used,” Arafinwe said whilst he entertained Aikanáro who was handed over to him. “You have our assistance, always and in whatever way it might come in need.”

Not to be outdone in displays of support, Nerdanel cleared her throat and reached one hand towards her sister-in-law, covering Anairë's with it. “Once it comes to that, you know our door is always open to you and yours. Send the children to us and they will be distracted and entertained. One less thing to worry about.”

Anairë sighed, fished for a pickle, dipped it in whipped cream and smiled. “With offers like this, how could I refuse?” She laughed and then shrieked when she was kicked again.

And with the mood lifted, those present reassured and with the imminent future now looking brighter, Aikanáro deemed this to be the perfect moment to spit up on himself. There was, after all, still retribution to dish out.

In time, the elflings great and small would come to pounce on the fine things still laid out for feasting, the entire princely brood descending on one poor table and its contents, and some of it would land in the koi pond.

Purely on accident, of course. There were rules for cake in the koi pond.


	2. Lumba

It was not quite a year later that Nolofinwe and Anairë took up the offers given not long ago over tea and cake and pickles.

The doctors, the finest that could be found as promised, agreed that the child had grown large. Large enough to worry about the mother as well as the unborn son, if nothing was to be done soon.

A letter was send to Nerdanel, for Fëanáro would surely have done nothing more than to snort at it, holdalls were packed and the children, those who needed it, were comforted.

No one told Irissë of the exact reason as of why they would leave for a time, for she had very clear specifications for her new brother and the screaming would have been endless that her order was not to be fulfilled. Such was a matter to be dealt with once the child had arrived. The sulking that would surely follow would be delayed for as long as possible.

Irissë had outlined her wishes very clearly, with helpful pictures drawn and a list decorated with dried flowers and the shed, scaly skin of a lizard she had found somewhere. She wanted a delicate little brother, a tiny one, doll-like, much like Aikanáro with his small, dear face and golden fluff. Easy enough, there was after all already a precedent with her cousins.

For Irissë, in a notion born from naivety and well-intentioned ignorance, this whole outing meant fun and a new, entertaining toy at the end.

Others where not quite so enthused for the things to come.

“It will only be a little while, Finno,” Nolofinwe said when they went over the very last bits and bobs that needed stowing away. The favourite pillow would see one more use before packing, but his flute and his homework could not be stuffed away fast enough.

Though servants had brought clothing and the bags, this was busy work Nolofinwe did not mind, welcomed it for the distraction, if anything.

Findekáno found no such pleasure and instead fiddled glumly with the corner of a tunic that still hung out halfway. “And it will give you a chance to spent time with Nelyafinwe.” A cheap tactic, to appeal to Findekáno's wish to see his friend as often as possible for as long as possible. But Nolofinwe had, as calloused as it was, other, greater worries and to work through every reason why Findekáno fretted and worried would have taken time and concentration Nolofinwe did not have. “Don't press your ears like this, they will stay that way.”

Later. When all of this was over, he would take the time. Until then, his gaggle of nephews would have to step up and keep Finno from floundering. What did it say about Nolofinwe that he considered this a viable option? Madness, no doubt.

There came quiet, wilful whining but it was quieted soon enough, ears pressed hard against the side of his head relaxed, though not by much. “But why is it that I cannot stay here? I'm _mature_ , I can help.”

Stirred to sympathy, Nolofinwe abandoned the luggage to step around Findekáno's blue canopy bed and catch his fretting son in unyielding arms.

“We did not leave when Irissë was born,” Findekáno muttered dejectedly, head resting on his father's shoulder. A hand petted over dark curls.

“This is a little different. Your sister was not of this size.” Nolofinwe flapped his ears, as if to shoo away a pesky fly that wished to settle between them when Findekáno groused miserably once more. “Because your mother has made it abundantly clear that she will have words for me during this delivery, words no elfling should have to hear.”

Findekáno opened his mouth, no doubt to protest again that he was no small elfling in need of “And more importantly; because she does not wish to scare you. There will be yelling and worry and those are not things you should remember when it comes to your brother. These should not be the first memories you have of him.”

“But they will be amil's,” Findekáno muttered miserably to himself but did not argue further. “And yours.”

Nolofinwe laughed, only lightly strained, “I brought your mother into this mess and thus it is the least I can do.”

Findekáno huffed and wiped his eyes.

“There,” Nolofinwe said gently, “Now go to your mother, she will want to see you before you go to sleep.”

Which coincided with the fact that Findekáno wanted to see his mother. And then never leave, ideally.

* * *

Turukáno had already curled himself against one side of Anairë, eyes closed and twitching lightly as Anairë stroked her fingers through his hair.

Irissë sat at the foot of the bed, her doll next to her and as bright and chipper as one could be when distantly aware that one's mother was not as well as she could be. But Irissë did her very best to cheer her mother up and so all was well or would be soon again.

She had been quite busy showing off her stitching to Anairë, vying for praise.

"Finno, love," Anairë said when Findekáno came storming into the room as if chased and fled to her side, the one where no brother lay. "Excited for your visit with Nelyo?"

"Mh..." Findekáno sighed and pressed his face into the pillow next to his mother.

"Oh, one would think we send you off to work the fields, silly boy," Anairë tutted and made to fish for her brush to fuss over her poor, anxious son. How unlike her happy Finno, so bright and joyful normally. But he was so perceptive of others moods. Simply one more reason to send them away for a little while. To have him distracted from things he could do nothing to help with.

Irissë, her pretty stitching, resembling a tree or something else, she was not entirely sure, neatly folded away, she nodded sagely. "He's stupid like that," Irissë informed her mother and shrieked indignantly when Findekáno kicked out backwards like a horse in retaliation. He missed. But it was still rude and so shrieking was appropriate.

Turukáno snorted unhappily from his place on the bed, both being jostled and shouted at did nothing to allow a peaceful rest.

Anairë clicked her tongue in sharp disapproval, even as she continued to brush Findekáno's dark hair, what of it she could reach. "How unkind, Irissë, is that any way to speak about our siblings so?"

A wounded noise was the only answer, a sniff and then she picked up her doll and pressed it to her face. " _M_ _wo_ \--!"

"Very true," Anairë nodded. "Now, instead, shall we see if we cannot do something fun."

And at this, at last, Findekáno's head rose a little, turned a little, and regarded her. "Like what?"

"Why, whatever we want, of course."

* * *

When the skies had long turned silver and stars peaked playfully from behind their veil, Nolofinwe stuck his head into the room where playing cards and string for cat's cradle had been liberally strewn about and he sighed. Anairë waved at him, a loopy ribbon tied into part of her hair. "How are you feeling, love?" Nolofinwe asked as he wandered closer and leaned over Turukáno to kiss her.

"Why, I feel quite fetching. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely." To the rest, “All of you, to bed. We shall leave soon after Laurelin's waxing.” He gently prodded at Turukáno who was almost dozed off, earned a confused, sleepy half-bleat for his troubles and nudged him off the bed.

Irissë, when she bounded down the hallways, had no such fears nor reservations. Instead she crowed about happily, made plans what she would do when presented with the opportunity of so much time with Tyelko and had searched out the little riding dress for her doll. For her, there was no doubt that all would be well by the time they returned and therefore fun could be had freely and guiltless. She was first out the room, bounded around the corner and was gone.

Nothing Findekáno could have said would have swayed his father and so, he resigned himself to his fate as they were herded off to sleep.

* * *

Most things looked a little different after a good bit of sleep and so it was that Findekáno came to meet his uncle and aunt thoughtful but no longer sullen. Not very much, at least. It helped to think about the fact that he would get to play with Nelyo.

Irissë, dressed up in much the same garments as her doll, both with hair done up with fetching clips befitting a Lady, bounded first past him and then pranced at his side. “They are already here!” she crowed and strutted along, left and right of him as if to shepherd him like a dog might a sheep. A very, very gormless sheep.

But who if not her?

Findekáno was idly aware that breakfast would be missed but opted to silence. There were more pressing concerns.

Namely and most importantly, his mother.

Someone had dragged a chair out for Anairë to sit in, for standing had begun to strain her lately. Just another reason for Findekáno to worry and wish desperately that there was some way he could help meaningfully.

“Finno, love,” she said when Findekáno came flying down the stairs to meet her. “My poor boy, so flighty.”

“I'm alright,” Findekáno insisted after carefully throwing himself into her arms, because he _was_ grown and mature and someone had to rear his siblings so Nelyo did not have to be mature alone.

Anairë hummed and barely did it sound strained or pained, but only barely. “Love, do try and enjoy yourself, this stress is not good for you. It makes you so twitchy.”

Findekáno rumbled something into his mother's shoulder. It could have been agreement. Or heartbroken lamenting. Or outrage. Perhaps some muddled confusion made up of all of these emotions swirling about.

Irissë meanwhile busied herself with her uncle and the faint but ever present hope that she could trade Aikanáro in for something so she could have all the prettiest younger siblings she could ever want. And her pretty dress surely made for a compelling argument? It had _ribbon_ around her sleeves. She had twirled in front of the mirror for a while before. Showing that she knew how to spot and appreciate pretty things and cute things and pretty cute things surely counted for _something_?

This exchange would have to be solely on a trust issued basis, for she had nothing of perceived value with her at the moment and Aikanáro was off, away, busy with comforting his grandfather through dark and troubled fears that sprung up whenever a new cousin was on the way. Also, evidently, siblings.

“My new brother is going to be very cute, you know?” Irissë informed her uncle again because repetition couldn't hurt. “I am sure they would look very _fetching_ together.” Sometimes, to get what one wanted, one needed to sweeten the deal after all.

Arafinwe, also avid collector of mischievous children (not all of his own making), and cute babies (likewise) nodded. “No doubt,” he agreed brightly.

Sensing an opening, Irissë nodded enthused,“Yes, and you know, they would need to stay together to look best. I have a very pretty bed, with frills. Large enough for two babies. And a doll house.”

Arafinwe hummed, ears twitched, flapped idly once and one rose while the other fell, “Also for the babies?”

“No, just for me. And Tyelko.” Because always and forever, everything with Tyelko. Her dearest friend, not at all like her lanky, weird brothers.

Naturally, her uncle would not make it easy on her, “I would be short of one child then, would I not? They are counted out, I have need for all of them. Precious things, they, I am sure you understand.”

“Oh...” Irissë said for that was of course true and a true shame besides. A solution needed to be found. “I could loan you Turukáno for a bit?” Which was not entirely the same; Turukáno was tall and bossy and weird and not at all cute. But she could hardly name his flaws when intending to bargain.

Turukáno had been content to sit on one of the low stone benches, legs pulled up under himself comfortably until their departure. “Do I get a say in any of this?” Turukáno asked from his seat but made no great effort to rise.

“They have a large library,” Irissë assured him, for she was willing to make concessions for her persnickety and bossy brother.

“Not as large as this one,” Turukáno said, because that was the kind of spoilsport he was. Simply one more reason to trade him off for someone cute, frankly.

“Do not try to sell off your siblings,” Nolofinwe commanded firmly, because of course he would spoil her fun and deny her such prime opportunities. Not to mention that trading was not the same as selling, but her father was hardly in the mood to discuss such semantics. That was alright, she forgave him. He had his flaws but she was inclined to be gracious. It was not his

Instead she adjusted her doll and tossed her head so the braids would lay correctly and look pretty, “I found Finno,” she told him and pointed to where Findekáno lay flopped over in his mother's arms.

“I see,” Nolofinwe said.

Irissë waited for a moment, flapped her ears and turned them forward expectingly, “Well?”

Concessions needed to be made where they were due and so Nolofinwe squatted down in front of her until he was on the same eye-level. “What would I do without you, _aranel_?” Nolofinwe asked.

Now, a Lady did not go and smugly declare herself superior, even if she clearly was. But the very smug _prancing_ was perfectly appropriate.

“Can we go now?” she asked finally, for little held her here and almost everything else she wished for was currently waiting in a mansion not too far from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not why these stories keep exploding in size all of a sudden. They were planned out shorter, barely 5k words. This won't suffice anymore. I hope you don't mind, dear reader.


	3. Arinwat

They did not round the mansion to get in from the garden gate. Instead the front door was approached and bags carefully stacked in a pile.

“Now, I do believe you will fare better here than we ever could,” Arafinwe said with a glance to the door and the house that it led into. “Do enjoy yourselves, dear ones, niece and nephews, will you?”

“We will!” Irissë said, hurried to bid both aunt and uncle goodbye so she could whirl about to knock upon the door. Her patience had just nearly run out, was on its last leg and buckled under the urgent desire to see Tyelko. Right now!

With Irissë making noise in the background, beseeching the door to open under the might of her wishes and demands, daring it to refuse her and then being terribly offended when it did, Arafinwe and Eärwen both took their leave.

“Nothing to it, I suppose...” Findekáno sighed as both brothers watched them leave and it was the sigh of one resigned to his fate. Far more tortured than strictly necessary, but his worry had drowned all else. Everything was terrible forever.

* * *

Sounds of someone brushing up against the door, cloth on wood pressing together, a bit of jiggling on the doorknob and sharp admonishment when perhaps someone tried to lend assistance, and the door was pushed open.

With eyes like blazing coals, Curufinwë looked barely out of place in his too large robe, perhaps a borrowed piece of clothing from his father. Barely.

A sneering appraisal later, Curufinwë scoffed. “Oh...It's just _you,_ ” came Curufinwë's greeting and as far as the youngest son of Fëanáro went, this was as amicable a welcome as they ever would get out of him. One took what one could get.

Curufinwë rolled his eyes and looked to all the world like one who had suffered endlessly and saw no end in sight. “I want to close the door, come in or leave!” It was very much like being snapped at by a very small, very angry dog but to say so out loud was the best way to get bitten. Coincidentally, this also brought small and yelping dogs to mind and so the circle was whole.

They shuffled inside as they had been bidden, conversation was held to a bare minimum for no one wished to draw Curufinwë's tireless, unfocused ire onto themselves.

Curufinwë snorted as he pushed the door close and trudged back the way he had come, uncaring to the guests left in the hallway. His over long sleeves dragged behind him and the only reason why he was not tripping over the hem that would have come underfoot easily, was by virtue of having the last five buttons undone.

“Don't drag dirt around,” he warned sternly and was gone a moment later, unconcerned by his cousins presence. Head held high and sleeves dragging like a proud emperor's cape, he vanished behind a corner and only the sound of scuttling steps echoed through the halls until, they too, silenced.

“You!” Curufinwë called to one of the servants, “Bring the bags in!” And after a moment, almost out of hearing range, “Thank you.”

And gone he was.

Three elves found themselves left to their own devices because one of their hosts had just lost all interest in them.

How different the halls felt now, without any Fëanorians bustling about. Not quite duller, but the ever thrumming spirit that filled every corridor lacked. Sleepy, perhaps. Like the elves inside, if Fëanorians could ever be ascribed something as harmless and cuddly as _sleepy._

Only a few servants roamed the halls as they tidied up. One exchanged wilted flowers from a vase with hyacinths. No one paid great mind to the siblings and that was exciting all on its own.

Even the _servants_ here were strange, acted different than those in Finwë's halls. _Exciting_!

The siblings stayed clumped together right up until the moment Nelyafinwe rounded the corner. He carried with him a basket, the scruffy green of harvested carrots and a slender, ivory radish poked out behind him like some exotic bird's tail.

Then Carnistir clambered into the halls, just behind his brother, his own little basket full of eggs with him.

It would have taken far less than the sight of him, of Nelyo standing there as tangible reassurance, to send Findekáno down the hall towards him. He bounded over the carpet, and all which might have dragged him down, too slow, too weak to follow after him.

Nelyo received him with much the same enthusiasm and all sorrow was swept away in careless laughter.

“You're here early,” Nelyafinwe exclaimed when they untangled themselves and vegetables had been straightened again. He shifted the basket further up the crook of his elbow and wiggled his ears in wry amusement. “Is anyone even awake yet? I thought you would come later, but no one tells me anything. Did the servants let you in?”

Findekáno shook his head, smiled, “Curufinwë opened the door for us.”

Nelyo smiled shrewdly and together they waited for Findekáno's siblings to reach them, “Must have been quite the sight.”

“Is there a reason for his choice in nightgowns?” Turukáno asked after he had been greeted as well.

Nelyo shrugged and arranged the shifting contents of his basket, “Just one of atya's discarded robes he likes to sleep in; He feels grown up in it, I think.”

Carnistir, either terribly bored or simply wishing to hurry the proceedings along, sighed and pulled at his brother's shirt.

“Yes yes, I know.” Nelyo patted his brother's head and turned to his cousins, “Join us for breakfast?”

“Always,” Irissë crowded and pulled at Turukáno, caring not in the slightest to his flustered attempts at apologising for his sister's yelling. What was enthused yelling in these halls? A trifle, little more.

With their trio expanded into a motley group, they followed to the kitchen.

* * *

With the sounds of rifling through the cupboards, Nelyo hummed to himself. Something clanged, bowls being pulled out, being plopped down on the counter.

"You want them scrambled? I finally got it down perfectly, I think. I make them a little runny, very good on toast."

“Yes!”

“You ate breakfast already,” Turukáno reminded his sister helpfully.

She turned, cocked her head to regard her brother as if he had told her rain was wet; true and yet having no baring on anything. “And?”

“...Nothing. I'll have some tea if there is any. Please.”

“We have enough tea to flood the cellar,” Nelyafinwe laughed. “If you tell me your favourite, I am reasonably certain that we have it here.” He pulled open a cupboard to rifle through elegant copper tins.

“Well, I didn't and I'm hungry,” Findekáno said and sighed, longing for breakfast. “I can help you,” he offered in the same breath.

“Relax, Finno, enjoy yourself,” Nelyo said and smiled. The smile that promised all would be well in the end. Findekáno believed it without reservations.

“There you are. Now,” Nelyo said and set a bowl down in front of his younger brother. “Carnistir? A dozen for the start.” More to himself than anyone else, "Can always make more."

Carnistir pulled himself up and grabbed for his basket. An egg was selected, tapped firmly against the table and emptied into the bowl. This continued but Carnistir did not appear to mind.

“They are so large and _orange_!” Irissë noted with rapt wonderment. She turned to Carnistir who was in the process of puffing up proudly, “How do you do that?”

For the chicken coop was Carnistir's domain and all within under his rule.

Carnistir, his hard and diligent work recognized appropriately, hummed, “I give them the vegetables Tyelko doesn't eat. And he catches bugs for them.” Which naturally meant Tyelko was very far up the list of appreciated and valued helpers. Only helpers though. Curufinwë held complete and sole domain over the chicken coop.

Nelyo took the bowl with him and there was the sizzle of cooking egg and the smell of butter not moments later. "The first scavengers should be arriving soon enough," he said idly and shuffled the pan around. "Carnistir?"

Carnistir cracked his knuckles and lifted himself up to loom over the table. Slapping the palms of his hands on the wood, "On with it, then."

* * *

In search for company and fun, also breakfast and a quart of strong tea, Kanafinwë came wandering down the halls. Hair askew, not yet brushed, his sleeping clothes rumbled. His head was full of notes, half-finished, or half-begun, 

Already with a greeting on his lips he stepped into the kitchen, found his cousins present and leapt back into the hallway with all the scrambling grace of a deer slipping on ice.

All three of them had been turned away, preoccupied by something else. Such good fortune would be squandered and he was off to make himself presentable. One could not step in front of guests looking freshly rolled out of bed, after all. Kanafinwë at least could not, he had a reputation to uphold.

None were any wiser to the near disastrous encounter and Kanafinwë was glad for it.

* * *

Finding Tyelko was not difficult, Irissë knew these halls almost as well as her own. Prancing about, towards her goal, not once a wrong corridor chosen and not once tripping over carpet, she whistled to herself until the door behind her very best friend waited for her was reached and she pushed it open without hesitation.

And then, success! Tyelko lay splayed as if one had thrown him in and not bothered beyond that point, all boneless and hair fanned everywhere.

The blankets had been thrown about, maybe been trampled on for good measure, and then flung back into bed to roll around on top of them. In the middle, one leg thrown out from under the covers and the rest twisted ever which way, lay Tyelko.

She took a wide, very generous run-up and tore down the hallway, through the open door, and leapt. She respected Tyelko enough to not worry about crushing him beneath her descending force.

And, most importantly, she was dainty as well as a Lady and as such no squishing should ever be possible.

Tyelko yelped, snorted loudly as he was both used as landing spot as well as shoved from his nest to the edge of the mattress.

“Irissë!” Tyelko called when air was forthcoming again because having his dearest best friend come wake him was the second greatest thing, right after a good round of play fighting right after waking up. Luckily for him, Irissë was happy to oblige.

Something tumbled from Tyelko's dresser when they rolled into it with all the force necessary to make an opponent yield. Wooden clatter was drowned out in their fun.

In time, they would go to the kitchens.

But that could wait.

* * *

Kanafinwë returned, now brushed and made presentable, and not at all flustered by the potential prospect of being caught looking scruffy and unkempt.

Turukáno, already discomposed before Kanafinwë had even seated himself, turned towards his cousin, perhaps to strike up conversation but said nothing.

Laughing brightly, Kanafinwë nudged poor, lightly squeaking Turukáno, “How nice to have such fine company for breakfast.”

Contact was made, an invitation to speak, and Turukáno grasped for it eagerly. “Tea?” he asked, for even when welcomed, the words were slow to come.

“Why, you must have read my mind,” Kanafinwë thrilled and held out his cup.

* * *

“My dear ones, all three of them,” Nerdanel laughed and greeted each of her nephews and her niece who had by now returned. “How have you fared, loves?”

“I had no breakfast and I was thrown out from home,” Findekáno said, suddenly sounding close to tears, and fell into his aunt's arms. There was not much warning and Findekáno looked about as surprised about the whole thing as everyone else.

“Now, there there,” Nerdanel said and allowed him to weep in peace. When she sat down to shuffle him into a more comfortable position, Irissë leaned against her and puffed a contemplating sigh. “This seems to have been brewing for a while.”

Soundless, wheezing whimpering came from Findekáno and little more in the way of an answer.

And then, at last in all his bleary eyes glory and followed by Curufinwe, Fëanáro strode through the door just as Carnistir, horrifically jealous about the fact that his mother's attention had been stolen when he wished to cuddle with her, glared at the back of Findekáno's head.

He caught Turukáno to press a kiss to his forehead, Kanafinwë who was unspeakably embarrassed, found Carnistir and at last Nelyafinwe who was still at the stove and was therefore a stationary target. "Slept well?" Nelyo asked idly and plated up his work.

"No." Returning to the table to pull a chair out, Fëanáro found a discrepancy. "You're none of mine,” Fëanáro accused grimly, voice low and pondering from interrupted sleep. He passed them by, snorted disdainfully at being nearly tricked and stalked past them. Turukáno shuddered at the skulking form behind them and calmed only when his uncle fell into his chair and demanded breakfast and tea.

A cup, painted with leaves and foxes, was pushed before him, a plate piled high followed shortly after, nearly overshot the table to land in Fëanáro's lap but was caught just timely enough to make it look deliberate.

“What are you doing here this early?” he asked and Turukáno looked near fainting.

Nerdanel sighed the sigh of a wife who knew her husband and yet still kept overestimating him, “Oh for-- Fëanáro, honestly, stop glaring--”

“I am not glaring at them,” Fëanáro tried to defend himself and now he glared at his wife.

“Stop glaring right now, you look so hostile.”

Fëanáro rolled his eyes, “I am _tired_ , Nerdanel.”

“Then sleep at reasonable intervals, _Fëanáro_ ,” Nerdanel said. “Or rest from time to time, like normal elves.”

“I am nothing like these simpletons!”

“I'm getting a new brother!” Irissë exclaimed, for there was no discernible survival instinct within her and she was dreadfully bored of the conversation currently taking place. Far more productive things could be discussed. Mainly her soon to be newest playmate. “He'll be cute and we can play house with him.”

Fëanáro turned to his food and much like his sons, ate as one starved did, unconcerned by common etiquette.

“Is this one not good enough?” Fëanáro asked after sense and another helping returned and pointed his fork at Tyelko who inhaled soft boiled eggs. Something sat ill with him, it seemed, at the prospect that his own son might be overlooked in favour of a Nolofinwion, any Nolofinwion for any reason lured something to the surface.

Nerdanel leaned over and pinched his arm. Fëanáro gave a surprised huff and then, finally, the glare was tucked away.

Irissë sniffed, flipped her hair behind her shoulders and fished for thinly cut bread to dunk into orange yolk. “It's not about that. Tyelko is not a _cute baby._ ”

Tyelko looked both proud and ever so slightly disappointed at his best friend's flippant description. A baby he was truly not. But not cute at all in the eyes of one who valued adorable things so highly...

“He's just cute,” Irissë finished, unaware of Tyelko's silent dilemma. Tyelko beaming brightly, fully appeased, returned to his breakfast. The world was right once more.

“Anairë can hardly take it back, can she?” Nerdanel asked sharply, a tone that allowed no nonsense nor backtalk.

Things _could_ have been said in answer to that. Cruel things that could cut to the bone and ruin any breakfast along with whatever good mood had begun to cultivate.

Fëanáro knew this and decided to still these remarks because the line of elves who would kick him for hurting the feelings of even one Nolofinwion was a long one indeed.

Unwilling to be kicked and famished anyway, Fëanáro turned to his plate.

* * *

“We will go over your assignments later,” Nelyo called after the fast retreating mob of elflings when the dishes had been done and the disgruntled groaning in the fast fading distance did nothing to sway him. No mercy, no relenting. There would be maths and grammar and a sway of topic until they _begged_ him to stop.

Nelyo hummed in delight at the thought.

Findekáno had remained behind, a bit of lather caught on one of his braids and fingers red from hot water, unwilling to run. Instead he sidled a little closer with Nelyafinwe who laid an arm around his waist playfully.

“Not fleeing? I prepared the loveliest trigonometry for you, you know?”

“I'm going to flunk that, I can already tell...” And though he blanched momentarily and ears fell like wilting flowers, Findekáno shook his head. “I wanted to help regardless.”

“You needn't have, Finno. That was very kind of you,” Nelyo said and nudged his friend while smoothing away the soap from his hair.

“Happy to, really,” Findekáno said and rubbed his hands. His ears rose hopefully, swayed a little, the tips flushed happily.

“We have a little time; Want to play something?” His eyes shone bright and eager. “Mancala?” he asked, almost shyly and very hopeful, “If you want to?”

And Findekáno could never, would never, turn away any chance to make Nelyo happy, nodded eagerly and followed along.


	4. Masta

With his hair tied back and a book in one hand, Nelyo looked far older than his true age. Studious, certainly. Stern, if one was so inclined. And some certainly were. “Irissë," Nelyo said after turning his page back to fractions, for he had to switch between topics for cousins and siblings alike. "Please explain the denominator in a fraction, if you would.” 

Irissë made an unhappy whistling noise somewhere in her throat which was impressive but did not partain to the matter at hand. “It's the-- uhm... no, wait... Err...” she threw her hands up in defeat. “How about I draw you a picture instead?”

“Later." Nelyafinwe promised. "We can practice painting portraits.” Turukáno made a hopeful sound at that. “After maths," Nelyo continued. "Irissë, don't draw in the margins,” Nelyo said, forever patient and no closer to make her comply. Tyelko's papers did not look much better, for he allowed flowers and cats and birds to sprout all over them.

“Those are notes!" Irissë insisted, "You should be nice to me, Nelyo,” Irissë told her cousin, “I am getting a new brother, you know? I need my wits for that.”

“And how better to welcome him home than being able to do your fractions, hm?” Nelyo asked. 

“That's a terrible way to celebrate!” Irissë called in outrage.

“I absolutely disagree,” Nelyo said. “What do you think we did right up until we got Curufinwë?”

“Maybe that's why he turned out like this,” Kana shrugged and ignored said brother's indignant howling. What he did not ignore was the flung abacus. Ai! Are you insane?!”

“Serves you _right_!”

“Curufinwë, don't throw your abacus. Kana, don't tease him,” Nelyo ordered his brothers and turned his ears away from their complaining.

Findekáno sighed miserably and changed the hand he was resting his face against. A bit of ink smeared across his cheek but he was uncaring to the fact, if he even noticed through his silent suffering.

“We will take a break,” Nelyo decided when everyone at the table made their wretched despair known in one way or another. “It's teatime soon anyway.”

* * *

There was a difference to going to the kitchens and asking for something to be made and the miracle that was _doing it yourself_.

How curious, how novel and strange. For one, little elves should not come underfoot because there was always the risk of getting the stock pot dropped on skittering elflings eager for a snack. No one wanted the stock pot dropped because that one was heavy and the prospect of hot broth everywhere was also not appealing.

This was, admittedly, not broth nor soup nor stew. This was tea and pancakes and the logistics were different for those. Still, to be so closely involved with the preparation of teatime was a strange and altogether new experience, very exciting.

“So what exactly do I do if I get eggshell in the batter? Hypothetically speaking, I mean,” Findekáno inquired cleverly without making himself suspect in the slightest.

Nelyo halfway turned from his work yet not entirely. “Then, hypothetically speaking, you would fish it back out.”

“Simply like that? Does that not foul it up?” Fingers in the batter did not sound like something the cook would allow without denting someone's head in after all.

Nelyo smiled over his shoulder even as he worked, hands never quite stopping, “Go ahead--”

“Hypothetically!”

“Yes, that, and just get it out. As long as no one sneezes into it, no one minds,” Nelyo said and dropped a piece of butter into the pan.

And such hypothetical scenarios solved, frantic fishing for eggshell ensued.

* * *

Nelyo filled the pan with batter which in itself was neither strange nor very riveting. No, the true wonder commenced only a few moments later, when the noises had turned from angry sizzling to a steady, greasy sputter.

He shuffled the half-cooked pancake around, moving it about so nothing would stick. All of it sensible. And then, with a sidelong glance to make certain all cousins looked at him, he threw the pancake into the air and caught it again.

“You get to _throw_ it around?” Irissë asked, eyes fixed on the flying piece of cooked batter with enthusiasm that told clearly that her interest in baking had just grown exponentially.

Nelyo hummed, “You can turn it over with the spatula if you want--”

“If you are _boring_ ,” Tyelko interrupted.

Rudely interrupted but not deterred, Nelyo rolled his eyes and nudged at his brother, “Hush, go get a plate for those.”

Instead of the cupboard, Tyelko wandered towards the hot pan, eyes alight, “I want to do one first.” Such fascination, when it came to Tyelko, with oil at skin-blistering temperatures and a pan heavy enough to dent heads was always a cause for concern.

* * *

They stared at one an other, sized each other up. Whatever unspoken argument was exchanged between them, passed. Nelyo huffed, snorted and moved aside so Tyelko could wreak his work in earnest now.

But Nelyo did fill the pan and used the closeness to lean in closer to his brother, “If you throw this thing too high again, you can tell _amil_ to scrape it off the ceiling.”

The way Tyelko's ears shot up, looking akin to a deer just about cornered by the wolves, indicated that this was the sort of thread that managed to concern. One of the few, granted, but one took what one could get to break through to him.

* * *

“This is _chaos_ and I _hate_ it!” Curufinwë called into the room and stomped out furiously. Most likely he would go on to search for Fëanáro to complain and vent to someone sympathetic to his plight.

The assembled watched him leave and returned to their tasks as one did after being admonished by a Curufinwë.

“He'll be back in time for tea,” Nelyo decided when the noises of vexation had ceased and no doors smashed quietly in the distance.

“He's just trying to get out of clean up,” Kanafinwë said, huffing disdainfully, and set out cups and cutlery.

“Don't you have servants to do that?” Turukáno, from behind Kanafinwë, carrying plates and a pensive, thoughtful look on his face, asked.

“Why would I bother the servants to clean up pancake batter?”

“How much cinnamon is too much?” Findekáno asked from his side of the room.

Nelyafinwe craned his head to look at his cousin and whatever he had wrought. “That depends.”

“Roughly.”

Nelyo blinked, ears pivoted and he scratched his chin, “Half a teaspoon for two tablespoons of sugar, I would say.”

“The large one was the-- tablespoon.”

“Have you ever eaten _anything_ with a spoon? How are you uncertain about that?” Carnistir asked. He had not participated with the preparation, for batter was a poor treat for birds and he had not been allowed to scavenge the ingredients for suitable things.

“More importantly, how do I get cinnamon out of sugar?”

“I'll eat it anyway, you needn't bother,” Tyelko offered helpfully and certainly solely motivated by altruism and not even a little by greed.

“You cannot eat that much cinnamon undiluted, you will cough your lungs up,” came now the warning.

“Tyelko won't! He's better than that!” Irissë called, impassionately defending her friend's honour.

Tyelko grinned widely at that, leaned in closer to nudge at Irissë. They giggled about, cinnamon forgotten.

Nelyo, at last, put an end to the squabbling when he brought out the plate stacked to towering height with pancakes.

“What about tea?” Findekáno asked. One could not have High Tea without tea, after all.

“Atya rules over teatime supreme,” Nelyo answered, “When he feels like coming down to the kitchen and gracing us with his presence.” He pouted, looking thoughtful, “Or is awake. Which reminds me.”

He turned to his brother, “Kana, go get him?” Someone had to prod Fëanáro after all. Simply to check if there would be a reaction and if so, what manner of it. Because on a strict technically both wiggling ears to show that he was listening and spontaneous combustion could be classified as reaction.

“ _Fine,_ Kanafinwë groaned and rolled his eyes. “Turukáno, join me?” he asked, just as bright as before, as if the griping not even a heartbeat before had not even happened.

And though the prospect of being not quite alone, face to face with his tempestuous uncle was enough to send poor Turukáno quailing, he followed dutifully, for his friend had asked him for his company. The potential of disappointing one he called near and dear was worse than any fiery relative potentially chasing him away, though the line between the two was a narrow one.

A very narrow one indeed.

* * *

Fëanáro sniffed once, between sentences, and that was all the break he needed to continue. “And I simply do not understand why your grandfather won't tell me who thought it to be a good idea to _bag_ tea. I told him I just wanted to talk, but do you think anyone ever listens? Of course not. I only mean well because they insist on acting like fools and who if not _I_ will show them how to do it properly?”

Another breath's worth of break, barely enough for poor Turukáno to gather up all the words just flung at him to sort them out. Everything had just swept into each other in one ceaseless flood. Perhaps Carnistir had agreed with that sentiment, though Turukáno would never presume to know what his cousin thought. Whatever the reason, Carnistir had covered four pancakes with apricot marmalade and sugar and snapped up another plain on and then absconded with them.

“But the little bags make it so no stuff floats in there,” Irissë said. A pancake had been prettily decorated, with cream and fruit and then folded over. Too loaded down with stuff, she used fork and knife and thought herself very ladylike. “I don't like the floaties... They taste awful.”

With such open disapproval that it crinkled his brow in deep furrows, Fëanáro continued, “They are imperfections inevitable and inescapable. I should know, I am surrounded by imperfection every time I am forced to straighten out court.”

“What selfless, thankless work you do...” Kana sighed. “Someone hand me these cakes, before Tyelko tries eats them all.”

“I would manage it, too!” Tyelko called but it was not nearly as coherent as that and clumps of crumbs sprayed liberally.

“You are so _gross_!” Curufinwë, seated safely away from the spray but never far enough from the sight, shrieked. “Why do we even still let you live in the house?”

“Because otherwise I would move into the forest?” Tyelko asked innocently and rolled up another pancake to gobble it up like some constrictor snake.

“No! Live with me!” Irissë called eagerly, as if Tyelko was just about to truly upend his life and live the life of some half-feral predator beast. “You can sleep under my bed!”

Tyelko nodded eagerly, because her bed had so much room underneath. Like a cave! So exciting. They could drag pillows and blankets under there and live together.

Cheeks blazing scarlet from envy, Curufinwë ripped his pancake apart and pouted once done, too angry for words or shouting.

“...You want sauce with that?” Nelyo asked his steaming brother and pointed the short spout of the vanilla sauce jug at the pieces.

Curufinwë pushed his plate towards him and watched custardy cream drown his pieces. This failed to make him feel much better.

“Want some too, Finno? When I have it here already?” Nelyafinwe asked his cousin.

And then, at last, tea was served and Fëanáro snatched up three pancakes at once and went to work.

* * *

By the time Nerdanel had been able to abandon her work, it was late. SHe had missed a good piece of the cycle, broken up only by breakfast and later Carnistir who had brought pancakes and fed the birds in front of her workshop.

Ah, and Fëanáro had clambered in some while ago, had offered, nay, nearly demanded, to tell a story to the children and was gone soon after. Not that that was all that strange, for ever since Nelyafinwe and his naughty magpies, Fëanáro had learned to relish in bedtime stories. But to tell them all, even the Nolofinwions? Well, far be it from her to have them get acquainted with each other.

And yet-- This had been... A while ago, and still her husband had not returned. So Nerdanel had gone investigating, right after finishing her piece because inspiration was a fickle thing and free time rare.

Was she worried? No, not truly. He was a twitchy sort, that husband of hers. There was a capacity for cruelty there, meted out freely and not always towards people who deserved it. But children? Their nephews and niece? No. Children were not subject to his moods. That was, however, not to say that there was not frequent need to check up on them because Fëanáro was easily swept away in his own flights of fancy and dragging others with him was usually the next step.

Halfway risen off his chair, hunched forward so as to loom over the assembled like some dreadfully back lit vulture, Fëanáro continued his frightful story, “And then, for reasons known only to his twisted design, he will drag you off to his halls,” Fëanáro whispered in lilting, spooky tones. “To occupy his dreary corridors and no elf may return _because_ \--!”

She scrambled backwards, one hand caught herself on the door frame and her hair slapped her in the face as she came to a screeching halt. “ _Fëanáro_!”

Most assembled turned, varying degrees of startled, except Curufinwë who squealed as if the dreadful things of his father's story had come to drag him off.

“Fëanáro!” Nerdanel called again over her youngest' screeching even as she pulled him up to comfort him. The screaming did not subside at once but continued muffled for a moment and only gradually settled.

“What?!” Fëanáro snapped back, ears in standoffish defiance, primed backwards like daggers.

“You are unbelievable!” Indoctrinating the children not her own was, at the very best, incredibly impolite.

“They _asked_ me to!” Fëanáro said and folded his ears back defensively.

Nerdanel threw up he free hand, “You are impossible!”

“Are you even listening, Nerdanel?”

"Bedtime," Nerdanel decided and this effectively concluded the argument. "For you too, you have been too high-strung for too long."

Fëanáro, outraged, opened his lips to argue his case, and was silenced right away by Nerdanel why pressed her free hand over his mouth.

"Bedtime," she iterated and though he glowered, Fëanáro did not pull away to bicker any further.

Curufinwe hiccuped, ears flopping and flapping. "I'm not scared," he insisted starkly but still insisted his father carry him to bed.

* * *

Children were gathered with varying success. Carnistir had reverted to a slack, almost floppy state and gave no trouble. Being utterly unfaced by scary stories had tired him out and now there was little else to do but getting carried to bed.

”Enough adventures for now,” Nerdanel said when she gathered him up, though Carnistir was in no position to answer nor argue. She had him draped over her shoulder, his face buried against her neck and one hand forgotten and dangling limply.

That left the still awake rest. Tyelko and Irissë had giggled and fled into the silver outside, to the gardens and their treehouse. Nothing would get them back inside, for they were adamant to sleep in there. The weather was mild enough to allow it and so it was granted. Curufinwë, when carried out by Fëanáro, seemed to be in a fantastically bad mood as well. That needed to be taken care of soon.

And of course Nerdanel sincerely doubted there would be much sleep to be had for those of her sons who had so graciously taken in a guest. This, too, was alright.

“Kana, love, would you help Irissë and Tyelko settle in? I'll have someone see after them later, but see to it that they have what they need, if you would.”

Kanafinwë still had his arm around Turukáno's waist, in the middle of some joke or jest, “Yes, amil.”

With that out of the way, satisfied that all would have their place and no one was left out, she made to bring a lightly snoring Carnistir to bed.

* * *

“More pillows!”

“That is half a dozen already,” Kanafinwë reminded them, because someone had to spoil every bit of fun there was to be had and it might as well be Kana. “There won't be enough room for the two of you.”

“Not with that attitude,” Tyelko replied from where he pressed the mattress into the little space. The tiny table and chairs had been put on the balcony. All to make room for a mattress that was too big and rose against the wall a little more with every push Tyelko gave it. And pillows, far too many or not yet enough, depending on who you asked.

And last, blankets strewn about and a sheet hung from the ceiling likening the tree house to some manner of ridiculous canopy bed. Perfect, in other words. Silver light from the outside provided illumination, plenty enough to get up to no good.

Plenty of stuffed animals had been invited and some wooden figurines poked out here and there and everywhere. A few die, cards, colourful chalk, all could be found if one cared to look.

“Do you even get air in there?” Kanafinwë asked, because as the oldest present, this felt like a question in need of asking. “Your windows are covered.”

“We'll leave the door open,” Tyelko called through said door.

“Maybe some squirrels will show up,” Irissë mused hopefully from where she hung halfway off the the little railing of the balcony. “We should leave nuts out.”

“You will only get bugs,” Turukáno said from Kana's side.

“That's alright too,” Irissë decided after a moment of thoughtful introspection and sounded not at all petulant.

* * *

With Fëanáro gone, there was no need to pretend and Curufinwë glowered miserably. There was not much bluster left to flaunt and there was probably too much dark under his bed. He could not be certain, but it felt very much like it.

“Check under my bed!” Curufinwë called, the end of his demanding cry petering out in an undignified squeak. “Please?”

Nelyo dutifully crouched low and lifted the overhanging blanket to peek under the bed as bidden. There was a bit of shuffling, a short sneeze and then Nelyo emerged, raised eyebrows first, “Why is atya's hammer under there?” Said hammer was plunked down on the mattress.

“He has so many!” And before there could be additional admonishing, Curufinwë folded his arms huffily over his chest and stared at the ceiling. “I need it!”

Nelyo hummed but put the hammer back, as instructed, “For what, pray tell? After-bedtime smithing?”

Curufinwë did not answer. If anything, he grew ever more scarlet around the nose and he huffed angrily like a tea kettle.

Nelyafinwe tutted and sat upright, “No, that's fine. I'm tired, I don't wish to grapple with this at the moment.” Too many questions that would need answering and he wanted nothing to do with those at the moment. Enough about responsibility.

“What about Mandos?”

“What would Lord Námo do under your bed?” Nelyo asked.

Curufinwë snarled, crossed his arms over his chest, not easily seen under the blankets, and harrumphed. “Being _evil_! Stealing me so his _stupid_ halls aren't empty! Like in atar's story!” For Curufinwë had already embraced his father's words as truth, locked them safely within him. Atar was the very smartest, the very best, all-knowing and brilliant.

Nelyo sighed. There were things Nelyafinwe wished to do. Mostly, to play with Findekáno and perhaps do so uninterrupted. With work and obligation out of the way, with his youngest siblings asleep or occupied, the prospect was tantalizingly close. They could hide out in the garden, at the copse with the rowan trees.

But one could not leave their spooked youngest sibling be when they quailed and quaked. And so, even as he yearned to play tag with Findekáno, Nelyo smoothed the blankets, fetched the well-loved, thoroughly crumpled doll from his place on the shelf and handed it over.

“There is no one under the bed.” And to forestall any further protesting, “Let me check your closet.”

Curufinwë pulled the doll, done up with dark hair and a smith's apron, under the blankets and huffed quietly. “...Thank you...”

“I'll leave the door open,” Nelyo said when every space had been scoured diligently for spooks and bogies and Lord Námo summoned by scary stories.

Curufinwë pulled his doll closer and yawned, now finally secure. Nothing could ever escape his brother's fierce gaze, he knew that from experience. As far as reassurance went, that was alright. By the time Nelyo left, Curufinwë had closed his eyes and was nearly asleep.


	5. Porokelle

Findekáno awoke in a bed not his own but was not all that broken up about that fact. It was Nelyo's room and Nelyo's bed and this meant safety as much as his own room could ever be.

His favourite pillow was pressed against Findekáno's chest, face halfway buried in it, pleasantly warm still. The blankets had been spread out over him, too neat to not have been righted by Nelyo when he had gotten up. Behind him, there was the sound of whistling and something made from cloth ruffled quietly. Findekáno flicked his ears to catch the little noises.

Findekáno yawned, long and with relish, and twisted around to take in his surroundings. The curtains had been drawn back, just so, to let light in, and yet still drawn enough to not disturb Finno.

The playing cards and the mancala stones had been cleaned up, neatly stacked on the bedside table for no one wanted crumbled cards in bed, much less a rock pressing in one's back.

Unless one was Irissë or Tyelko, he mused idly and rolled around a little to relish in the lazy ease of one just waking on their own terms. But these two where quite singular and that was likely for the best.

Stepping out behind the changing screen, with his sleeping clothes folded over his arm and still barefooted, Nelyo sauntered out, ready and raring to go.

“Already awake, sorry did I make too much noise?” Nelyo asked and placed his clothes on the end of the bed.

“No, no I'm fine.” Findekáno yawned and rolled around to peel himself out of bed. The warm blankets tried to pull him back, to persuade him into staying and laze away a little more time.

“I had fun,” Nelyo said. “No one wants to play thirty rounds of mancala with me usually.” He chuckled and pulled a strand of long russet hair behind his ear. “You are so very patient with me.”  
“Why? I like it,” Findekáno told him earnestly and yawned until his jaw popped. He could simply fall back into the mattress. Oh, some part certainly wanted to. If he curled under the blankets, they would surely still be warm.

“I would not have the foggiest,” Nelyo said and chuckled. “I won't be offended if you go back to sleep, you know? Most will still be, I suspect. Carnistir will be up, I am sure of that. Amil might be, maybe.”

Findekáno yawned and stretched until his back cracked deliciously, much to Nelyo's audible distaste. “Why are you awake then?” Findekáno asked.

“Someone has to help Carnistir get the bags down,” Nelyafinwe said simply as if anyone was supposed to know what exactly he meant by that.

Instead of asking his cousin to elaborate on that particular mystery, Findekáno made to dress himself and find out.

The moment Nelyo was done brushing Findekáno's hair, he insisted on that, they were off.

* * *

Carnistir waited for them in the kitchen, standing halfway outside with his back turned to them. His arm was halfway outstretched, as if to beckon someone to approach, palm upturned and full of seeds.

Songbirds of all kinds, robins and chickadees, a blue-gray gnatcatcher whose colouration made him look as if he was terribly angry, and a handful of little house finches, crowded around him, eating from oats spread around the ground or offered from Carnistir's hand. A sparrow rustled through his dark hair and Carnistir paid it no mind.

Findekáno was not surprised that he knew every single kind of bird flittering about his cousin. One learned about birds when knowing Carnistir. One could not help but learn.

He did not turn when Nelyo announced them both, quiet enough to startle no one. Carnistir nodded his greeting and turned a little to look over his shoulder. His forehead was already creased in thoughtful lines, “There are _squirrels_ on the feeder...”

Baleful snorting told Findekáno exactly how much love Carnistir held for squirrels and especially for squirrels who dared, who taunted Carnistir by raiding his pretty bird feeder. One of them. The metal one his father had made for him. Such insult! “I will have to oil the pole again...” Which was simply another riddle Findekáno knew not how to solve and instead could only hope to find out by observing his strange cousins.

“Before or after your chickens?” Nelyo asked and Findekáno watched him pull at a bag filled halfway with grains.

“After,” Carnistir replied without hesitation and watched his birds flutter about as he wandered into the kitchen, “They want out to scratch around.”

“I think I want to add raisins as well...” Carnistir mused and measured out peas. “I didn't sprout the wheat berries and I want to make it up to them.” Not to mention excessively taste test said raisins to assure quality.

Carnistir sternly instructed his brother and Findekáno in helping make chicken feed. So patient he was, only rolling his eyes once or thrice and shooing them away only when he was finally convinced that they were quite hopeless in their endeavours.

And then off they where, with a bucket of feed, a rag and some grease designated for purposed Findekáno was not certain about and knew nothing of.

* * *

Bright red combs bopped around as chickens pecked about, ravenous for Carnistir's lovingly prepared chicken feed. Like a supreme ruler, benevolent sovereign over his subjects, Carnistir watched them, wholly content with himself.

Findekáno, leaning against Nelyo, watched his younger cousin enjoy himself. “No wonder the eggs were so good.”

“I know, right? He also builds very pretty birdhouses,” Nelyafinwe said and pointed to a painted birdhouse hanging off an apple tree. It was not the only one. “Amil and he make them from time to time.”

“Hm,” Findekáno hummed and leaned a little closer, for Nelyo was warm and he himself was sleepy still.

When Nelyo nudged him, he jolted back up with a snort. “Come, Finno, you can help.”

“With what?”

“ _Squirrels..._ ” Carnistir, long since finished with his chickens who now scratched in the gardens, muttered darkly.

* * *

During breakfast Carnistir watched the squirrels, which had come to steal from his poor birds once more, slide off the greased iron pole that held up a feeding platform and looked supremely satisfied with their work. He was yet too small to reach the entire thing, had to order about his brother and cousin for that, but he had taken great joy in knowing that now no squirrel would reach what was meant for his birds.

Findekáno could hear him humming quietly to himself, saw him grinning into his tea and smugly eating toasted bread with butter. It promised to be a wonderful cycle for him and Findekáno did not in the least begrudge his cousin this sentiment.

Curufinwë came stomping in, cranky and testy and only appeased by the promise of warm oatmeal with dried fruit. When Fëanáro arrived not much later, it was much the same, though he searched around the cabinets for toasted hazelnuts as well.

From Turukáno and Irissë there was no sign and perhaps they were lost to the woods, gone off to some adventure. Not that Finno greatly worried, for his sister loved the woods and all the crawling things within it, but there were neither frilly cakes nor pretty dresses to be scavenged there and so she would be back in time.

* * *

"No matter," Nelyo decided finally, when all had gathered with varying degrees of willingness. "We will read a book. A page each and then pass it on."

"Why do we have to work when the others aren't here yet?!" Curufinwë called, not quite outraged but also not far away from such. It would take very little to push him now, careful balancing was now needed.

Nelyo ruffled his youngest brother's dark hair, ignored the hands attempting to bat them away, and smiled. “Would you like to sit with me while we read?”

And that was just entirely unfair! Curufinwë scowled at him, forehead creased in deep groves to match his frown. But he did not decline the offer. Then, after furiously blushing in anger, redder than metal pulled from the forge, he took Nelyo's hand and followed him to the large, upholstered chair.

“Turukáno-- no, Kanafinwë, start please? _Then_ Turukáno, Finno, Carnistir, the two of us and then from the beginning.” He sat down and pulled Curufinwë onto his lap, plopping him down and leaving it to Curufinwë to make himself comfortable.  
  
“Can do. Give it here,” Kanafinwë said, leaned forward when the book was passed on. It could have been tossed over, but Turukáno did not appreciate anyone treating books his grandfather had made like this.

“With inflection please,” Nelyo said before Kana had even time to utter the title. “I mean in general, not necessarily you, Kana, don't glare at me.”

“May I,” Kana sighed and rolled his eyes, “Or do you have anything else to say? Any more helpful tips?”

“None at all," Nelyo said, adjusted a squirmy brother until he sat still and rolled his wrist at Kanafinwe, "Ready when you are.”

* * *

Nelyo excused himself halfway through the the third chapter. Curufinwë tried to keep him where he was, fingers gripped tightly into his sleeve.

Curufinwë took exception to that right away. “No, stay!”

“I will be back soon,” Nelyo promised and made to unhook his brother's grip. Like pulling prickly burs out of his clothes, Curufinwë would not make it easy on him.

“I don't know all the long words yet! You have to help me pronounce!”

“Kana is here,” Nelyo soothed, ever and endlessly patient, “He knows words.”

But no soothing nor placating would be accepted, Curufinwë had decided such and so nothing would veer him off his chosen course. “Kana is stupid and _sniffy_!” Curufinwë called and pointed at his older brother accusingly.

“How dare you! I am not!” Kanafinwë cried in utter outrage from his seat on the lounge.

“Don't point at people,” Nelyo said. “Don't call Kana names. Kana, don't yell. I'll be back soon. Don't rip each other apart, I won't make bake you apple cobbler later.” And if nothing else in the world worked as a threat, this did. The brothers settled, spat postponed but never forgotten.

Turukáno nudged at Kanafinwë until his friend finally turned away from his glaring.

“Finno, would you help Curvo if he has trouble? I'll be back in a moment.”

“Sure,” Findekáno said casually and flung his legs over one armrest of his chair to be more comfortable. “Take your time, don't rush.”

And since it was Findekáno who told him so, Nelyo needed no further reassurance.

* * *

A trap had been laid. Some would have been surprised to know that Nelyo favoured trapping instead of pursuing on the account that he was very well versed in the ladder. One got plenty exercise rearing nearly a dozen of his kin so often, if one wanted to or not.

Not that he minded, really. No one had ever _forced_ Nelyafinwe to do so. But it was the principle of the matter and Nelyo liked the challenge.

None of that changed the fact that he had laid a trap. Tasty breakfast things had been laid out, delectable even when left out for a while. Arranged so Nelyo could stalk around the corner to sneak upon his prey and not be seen.

Two hungry elflings, ignorant to all and everything safe sugar-dusted egg-bread and smoked meat and fruit and other alluring, irresistible delights, gobbled away.

The smell of wilds and woods and whatever venture had taken place out there, between the trees and the rivers drifted through the kitchen.

Nelyo had anticipated this. Part of his trap was the bath waiting for them though they did not know this yet. Irissë could be swayed if the lady in her was appealed she was downright fussy.

Tyelko would follow soon enough if Irissë led on.

But they needed to be caught first, the adventure sat too freshly on them to simply persuade them to return to civility.

Careful sneaking, practised a thousandfold from both pursuing and evading siblings and cousins, ever closer. Irissë was drinking milk, dipping toasted slices of bread in between to make it soggy and slurpable, something done only in the secrecy of Tyelkormo's presence.

Tyelko ate as if starved and Nelyo was glad he had done away with the vase, otherwise flowers might have been gulped down as well in his zealous search for food.

Nelyafinwe, carefully angled so the light outside made him cast no shadow over them, waited for his moment, the one that would result in the least amount of spillage.

* * *

“Finno, try to keep up with your maths, you have been getting much better. Irissë, less scribbling in the margins, same for you Tyelko, don't encourage each other."

Tyelko, hair now dry and braided, snorted and Irissë, just as neat and brushed and braided, giggled.

Nelyo turned his had, "Turukáno--”

“I'm _sorry_!” Turukáno called to forestall all criticism by heaping unnecessary amounts of it onto himself before anyone else had the chance. “I messed up with the-- I will try harder,” Turukáno concluded and sounded miserable.

“--Be a little kinder to yourself,” Nelyo finished, handed them back their homework and assigned reading material for the next time they would meet.

And then, it was over. Freedom and all that meaning it carried behind it, was upon them. The princely brood fled in all directions until only a few figures remained in the study hall. Even Finno, now finally scared off and in desperate need to stretch his legs, was gone.

"Their bags are already packed," Nelyo said when his aunt made her presence known.

Eärwen, leaning against the door frame when the last children had hurried past her, tittered as her oldest nephew tucked away his stern teacher's role in favour of the oldest brother once more. “Nelyo, dear, I am so very glad I never had you for my instructor.” She laughed, sidled closer and ruffled her nephew's russet hair. “Ruthless you are, Nelyo. _Ruthless_. Where you my teacher, I would have flung myself into the sea several essays ago.”

“How good that we are inland and the ponds are easily searched through. Besides, I promise I am reasonable, _hanness_ _ë_. To a degree. I expect nothing I would not do myself.”

She tittered again, “That is a hard pace to set, don't you even try to deny it. Such diligence. Which is not to say that I am not eternally grateful that you wrangle my own brood as well. True and truly.”

Nelyo smiled that roguish smile that made him so popular among the young elves casting long and longing gazes after him. “I do not mind it. It's fun.” He took the scrolls and shuffled paper together into a neat stack. “This can wait,” he said and nodded towards them.

“ I will have to borrow your mother for a while, Anairë is in dire need of distraction.”

“Is she well? And the baby?”

“Downright splendid, both of them, given the circumstances; I will not bother with details but suffice is to say that we offered the very best and that is what we delivered. Also, a lovely strawberry trifle, courtesy by yours truly,” she said and placed her fingers on her sternum, as if to point out who she meant.

“Glad to hear it,” Nelyo said, “I will have the cousins fetched. They will need a little time to stretch, I hounded them a little, I admit.”

Eärwen turned to leave the study but waited for her tall nephew to catch up with her. “Thank you, dear one. I will reel your mother in, if you do not mind. Will your father be alright without her for a while? What am I saying, of course he will.” She nodded to herself, “He has you after all.”

“I do try,” Nelyo agreed. If anyone could keep this house standing and all that. The recognition was nice in any case.

“Ai, and what we would do without you, I don't want to imagine.”

“I would not mind strawberry trifle as a token of appreciation, you know?” Nelyafinwe said after a moment. Because rearing the younger cousins out of the goodness of his heart was good and right and all that. But trifle made by his aunt was no treat easily dismissed.

And Eärwen laughed brightly at that. “That, nephew, can surely be arranged.”

* * *

When at least even Irissë had been netted in, using a yelling, protesting Tyelko as bait, with every Nolofinwion and Nerdanel gathered, the horses were fetched. Turukáno, his hair cleverly braided, far too fetching, far too flamboyant to ever have been his own idea or doing, fiddled at the edge of his embroidered sleeves.

Findekáno had not quite returned to the fidgeting, fretting fretful mess he had been upon his arrival, but he was shaken once more. Nelyafinwe had embraced him and so far not let go entirely. “It'll be fine,” Nelyo told a sullen Findekáno and held him fast a moment longer before releasing him at last.

“I know,” Findekáno sighed. “Thank you. For everything.” He grimaced, embarrassed, “I was acting like an idio--”

“Always,” Nelyo said, kindly and pressed their foreheads together. “Forever, you know that.”

Findekáno did. From the bottom of his lightened heart.


	6. Arakáno

“Irissë will be quite unhappy,” Nolofinwe said when Nerdanel had returned from the room his wife waited. Now he shooed his children inside, bid them to mind their manners and be calm and quiet when dealing with the new brother and closed the door to talk with his sister-in-law.

“I can only imagine,” Nerdanel said and remembered how her niece had talked her ears off, falling over herself in proclaiming how sweet and delicate her newest brother would be. Not that tiny Arakáno was not perfectly lovely, for he was. But he was no sylphlike Arafinwion, that was true. Just as well, such gangly, twiggy children had never suited her, no matter how much she loved her golden nephews.

Ears wiggling, eyes narrowed, she turned, thoughtfully pressing a slender finger to the side of her jaw. “Nolofinwe, he is _massive..._ Not even Nelyo was of that size.”

“The doctors measured him around twelve pounds,” Nolofinwe said evenly, pointedly casual even as his own ears stood so tall and proud. That cad.

“ _Twelve_ \--?!” Someone should be floored by this and Nolofinwe did not appear to step up to the task. What luck that he had Nerdanel here to do so for him. “What did you _do_ to her? Nolofinwe, _honestly_ ,” Nerdanel admonished him and did so just quiet enough so no little ears would hear. “How has she not killed you yet?”

Nolofinwe smiled the smile of one who had worried himself to the very edge and found the delirium on the other side enjoyable. “There is an argument to be made that I have had no control over this,” Nolofinwe said and when Nerdanel knitted her eyebrows together most disapprovingly, he raised his hands. “Safe the very basics. I absolve myself of any wrong-doing.”

“You are a brazen one, Nolofinwe. If it was me with the twelve-pounder in there, I would not be nearly as forgiving.”

“How I count my luck then, that you are not.” As if remembering something, he tilted his head and looked off into the distance, blinking heavily and without anything focused on. “She calmed down after I reminded her that she might have beaten you in that regard.”

Both sibling-in-laws looked at one another and, after a moment, grinned. Not a drop of blood tied them together, only affinity. And yet all the same, it felt very little different than siblings teasing one another.

“I do reserve my right to brag in front of Fëanáro, you know? He has been insufferable ever since Nelyo and kept right on going. What with all the talk of most and biggest.”

“Oh, I know, go right ahead. Fair is fair, you will hear no complaints from me.”

“And it is not as if you won't outdo us all in the end,” Nolofinwe said. “Such competition,” he smirked and was nudged for it. Nudged, in fact, in the direction of the door.

“Why not?” Nerdanel asked and rested her hands on her hips, “I'm feeling lucky with the next one.” She shoved him into the antechamber because someone needed to be mature about this and Nolofinwe had emphatically proven that he was not. “Now get in there, I have wasted enough of your time.” With a click, Nerdanel shut the door behind him.

And since she was already here, she could just as well visit Indis for tea. Perhaps she could rope Eärwen in as well, even if her sister-in-law had never done more with tea than gulp it down to have it over with.

No matter. One needed to use opportunities given, after all. Secure in the knowledge that all was right with the world, she sauntered off.

* * *

Findekáno held him, so their mother had her hands free to decimate the trifle gifted to her. Turukáno had joined her, as had Irissë but Findekáno had no thought to spare for any of it.

His attention solely dominated with his youngest brother, His hands still quite pale, his face a little flushed, what little of him could be seen squished and wrinkled, was their newest brother. “He smells good,” Findekáno said and brushed his nose over the tiny, dark-fuzzed head which drew no reaction from the newborn.

“You did too,” Anairë said gently and wiped Irissë's face free of cream and custard. “Don't you huff it all up, Finno. No one is taking him from you.”

Irissë, once more made presentable but not happy, pulled at Nolofinwe's sleeve, urged him a little ways away to speak freely to both comply with his wishes and complain freely. “Why is he so _large_?!” Not at all similar to precious, doll-like Aikanáro, she could likely not even carry him like she had imagined. The disappointment was endless.

“ _Aranel_ , don't yell,” Nolofinwe said softly, airily. His was the drunken, sleep-deprived demeanour of one who had witnessed a miracle. A loud, messy miracle, perhaps, but one could not be choosy. “These things simply happen from time to time. Sometimes one gets a rather large child for reasons not yet entirely certain.”

Irissë folded her arms, puffed her cheeks in something that was certainly no longer ladylike frustration, “That's not _fair_. He's not cute at all...”

Nolofinwe looked back at Anairë eating strawberry trifle and the newest addition to the family, lying slack and wrinkly in his brother's arms. “Not even a little?”

The newest addition to the family used his time to endear himself to her by yawning, wiggling fingers that moved mostly on instinct. A tiny squeak sounded quietly in the otherwise peaceful room. “Well no, he's a _bit_ cute, I suppose...” Irissë begrudgingly admitted. “But he's not _tiny_.”

Her father puffed up proudly at that, for whatever inane reason. Everyone knew that little, delicate babies looked the very cutest. A shame one could not exchange this one for Aikanáro, but there were jests one did not make in her father's presence.

Nolofinwe smiled again, face glowing and eyes only this side of madness, “A strong one, they run in the family.” A light snicker-snorting laugh could be heard, Nolofinwe endlessly amusing himself apparently, “He is a runner...”

“I wasn't that wodgy...” Surely no Lady and princess as prim and pretty as her could have been so bulky. Absolutely not! She refused! **Refused**!

Nolofinwe leaned forwards, hands coming to rest on his knees, “You were perfect then and you are perfect still. As were and are your brothers.”

Well, _that_ was certainly debatable Irissë decided, but well kept her peace.

All of her brothers piled on the bed, from tiny to weird, all three had found a spot. Anairë considered her husband, glowered for a moment with pursed lips and then patted the spot next to her on the bed. “Don't believe for a moment you are getting out of this.”

“I would not dream of it, love.”

Irissë watched them for another moment, considered the fact that she had not gotten what she had wished for.

But before she could slink off to pout over her failed expectations and unheeded wishes, her mother called out to her. “Irissë, love, there is still trifle left. Help me with that, won't you?”

And being the good and polite daughter that she was, of course she would help. The rest would follow in time. Surely she could always borrow one of her uncle's children. So comforted by her reasoning, she went to eat trifle in the midst of her weird family. Few places where better suited for that.


End file.
